And Your Bird Can Sing
by nleslie
Summary: A collection of Across the Universe drabble oneshots. Some are long, some are short, some are silly, some are serious. But all of them have Max and Jude! COMPLETE
1. Floorshow

Floorshow

Max stumbled into the living room, shuffling his feet and taking no notice of anything around him. As usual. As a result, he totally missed the fact that Jude was lying on the floor face-up, staring at the ceiling (for whatever reason: it had been a weird day), and he was sent toppling over, crashing onto the Brit with a smack.

Jude was quick to push Max off of him. 'Stupid tosser,' he muttered, and he went back into his own little world.

Max groaned, starting to stand up. Apparently he decided against it and he laid across Jude's stomach instead. The brunette wasn't wearing a shirt today, only a pair of indigo jeans that barely held onto his hips without the support of a belt, which he was without today, seeing as how Max had thrown his only fitting one out the window the day before.

Again, for reasons unknown.

Max found himself cursing his own dress sense for the day. He decided that day to actually wear a shirt, something he now regretted deeply, considering he was finding himself wanting to know what Jude's bare skin felt like against his own.

'What're you doin'?' Jude grumbled, slightly winded from the way Max was laying on him.

'What does it look like I'm doing?' Max crowed. 'I am resting across your perfectly toned abdomen, you fine specimen, you.'

Jude looked at Max as if he was completely insane, which wasn't exactly arguable. The boy did some things nobody could really explain. 'Um, your rocker...'

Max looked up at him, interested.

'You seem to have lost it.'

_**I think I've overdone the 'omg, Max, you is crayzay!' thing, no? **_

_**Oh well! Maybe Magill can sort me out. What do you say, Lil? Or is it Nancy? **_


	2. Of Jews and Joolry

Of Jews and Joolry

Jude picked up his key from the row of hooks next to the door. Sadie had gone out one day and made a copy of the key for every tenant, and noticing that his key looked a little sad all on it's lonesome, he attached the burger-shaped keychain that he got from Max his previous birthday, which had served no use since he received it until now.

Twirling the key around a little, he had just pulled his arms through the sleeves of his jacket when Max came singing around the corner, enthusiastically re-creating the husky voice of Janis Joplin.

'_Ohh Lord, won't-cha buy me, a Mercedes Benz?... My friends all drive Porsches, I must make ay-meends!_ Heyyy, Jude!'

Jude grinned and joined in. '_I worked haaard all my lifetiime, no help from my freynds!_'

'_Oh Lord, won't-cha buy me, a Mercedes Benz?_' Max finished. 'Amen, brother. Where are you off to?'

Jude scratched his arm. 'Er... I'm off to the jewellery store. It's Lucy's birthday next week and I got a pretty good price for a painting this month so I figured I'd get her something really nice... like a bracelet or somethin'.'

Max looked like he had just been hit by a truck. 'It's her birthday? Why didn't you TELL me?'

Jude furrowed his eyebrow at the blonde as he groaned in anger. 'Uh-'

'I'm coming with you, alright?'

'Sure?' Jude answered, not really sure what to say. 'You got a pay rise or something?'

Max laughed bitterly. 'No, of course not. I was just kinda hoping...'

'No.' Jude replied shortly, immediately. 'Absolutely no way.'

He turned back to the door and made his way out to the hall, Max on his trail. 'Aw, c'mon, Jude!' he whined. 'If you just say it's from both of us, I'll be off the hook for forgetting to get her something myself! Please?'

Jude spun around to protest again but was met with Max's signature puppy dog eyes, and he knew it would be useless to argue. 'Fine, dammit,' he sighed, and raised a finger to point at Max. 'But I'm buying you a calendar and marking Lucy's birthday on it so this never happens again, got it?'

Max instantly grinned. 'Sure thing, man.' Jude shook his head in astonishment and began to descend the stairs, a second pair of footsteps sounding behind him. He pushed the door of the first floor open and stepped outside into the cold wind, and he had just barely put his foot on the ground when there was a pressure on his back.

He flailed his arms and stumbled backwards, falling on the concrete with a thud. He landed on something soft: a person. He landed on Max. Max choked with laughter, rolling out from underneath Jude and picking himself up off the sidewalk.

'What did you jump on my back for?' Jude shouted, and stood up, rubbing his lower back sorely. Max just shrugged and began to waltz down the sidewalk. Grumbling, Jude trailed behind the American slowly, hoping dearly that he wouldn't ever come in contact with a sidewalk like that again. Max, noticing that Jude wasn't next to him, fell back a little to talk to his best friend.

'So, Judey,' he began, making a big show of the fact that he was actually pondering something. 'Do you spell Jewelry 'j-e-w-e-l-l-e-r-y,' or 'j-e-w-e-l-r-y'?' he asked. Jude scrunched his face up with mixed emotions: confusion, contemplation...

'What? Where the hell did that come from? What does it even matter, anyway?' Annoyance.

Max shrugged. 'I don't know. I think one is the English spelling and the other is the American. ... So? Which one?'

Jude groaned loudly. 'The first one. Jew-el-lerry. Ok? Happy now?'

Max shook his head. 'No! It's JEWELRY, Jude! Like 'Joolry'! I mean, the way _you_ spell it it's like a totally different word entirely.'

Jude raised his eyebrow. 'It is, eh?'

'Well think about it, man. 'Jew-el-lerry' sounds like 'Jews are Larry.' Which is totally... fucked up.'

Jude laughed. 'That's not the only thing that's fucked up,' he muttered under his breath. Max didn't notice.

'So it could be deemed racist even, if you're a really speculatory person, y'know?'

Jude said nothing as they continued to walk. 'Is speculatory even a word?' Max wondered out loud.

'I don't think it is, mate. Not really.'

Max let out a noise of contemplation. Then he shrugged. 'That's fucked up, too! It _should_ be a word!'

'And you _should_ be committed into a mental hospital,' Jude said sharply. 'But we don't get everything we want, now do we?'

_**Okay, how awesome would it be if Jude and Max did a Janis Joplin duet? Particularly Jude. Aw, I digress. :P**_

_**Thanks so much for the reviews for the last drabble, guys! I'm going to try and update once a week or so, if not more often. I have a few more chapters already, and a ton of other ideas nibbling at me. I just don't want to update them too soon. ;) Oh well. Tell me what you think **_

_**(I know this isn't my best one, so forgive me!)**_

_**-Nora**_


	3. Helter Skelter

Helter Skelter

Prudence's point of view.

_Everything is such a fucking mess! Sadie is gone and Jojo spends all his time at the bar. Lucy is driving herself insane trying to stop this war, Jude is going crazy over Max, who is currently off in a jungle somewhere probably scared out of his mind. And thinking of Jude in return. Lucy and Jude are at each others throats every two seconds now, and I have nothing to say to them. It's not my place but I wish it was. If I could speak, I would tell Lucy to get her priorities straight and Jude to actually come out and admit to himself that he's in love with Max. We all see it, we all know it. Lucy herself has spent nights crying on my shoulder over it and how it obscures their relationship so much. She needs to calm down and move on: get someone else, let Jude be, stop nagging at him. Because nagging at him isn't going to make him stop loving Max and start loving her._

_Everything is just helter-skelter._

_If Max were here, he'd laugh at how stupid they're all being. He'd laugh at _me_ for keeping my mouth shut._

_He has to come home soon, for all our sakes. _

Dear, Prudence, won't you speak your mi-i-ind?

I don't like Lucy.


	4. Low

Low

Jude padded through the kitchen, determination on his face. Flipping through a stack of papers on the table, he grabbed a couple of blank ones along with a cheap pen and headed for his studio. Lucy was coming out of their bedroom just as he had come up the stairs, a basket of laundry under her arm.

'Are you starting a new project?' Lucy inquired, pulling the basket closer to her as it was beginning to slip down her side.

Jude hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. 'Yeah, I am.'

'Good,' Lucy smiled encouragingly. 'I'm just gonna run to the Laundromat to get these clean. Do you need anything while I'm out?' Jude shook his head no. Lucy paused for a moment, disappointment etched on her face, and then turned towards the staircase and began to walk away. Jude slightly winced as she passed, not wanting her to kiss him on the cheek like she normally did. She didn't. He didn't miss it.

The sound of the front door closing tore Jude away from his position in the hall and he entered his studio, closing the door behind him and pulling up a chair next to his desk. He laid the papers across the desk surface and stared at them for a moment. Then he picked up the pen.

_Dear Max,_ he began...

**I was originally going to write a full Jude-to-Max letter but this got a hold of me. I like it. I can understand how it might confuse a few people but I'd like you to kind of draw your own conclusions. Why was he being secretive? Why was Lucy so disappointed? What was he gonna tell Max? I have my ideas. I might expand later. **

**I am the master of five minute fandrabble. **


	5. Oil & Water, Dreams Call Out To Me

01. Oil & Water

When I was a kid and Lucy was even more of a kid, people would always comment on how gorgeous her eyes were: so bright and pretty. I didn't care, I was used to coming in second to her. I felt no hurt. But then Jude came along and every day he'd tell her how beautiful her eyes were, and that just about broke my heart. We have the same eyes. They're the same color and the same shape. I now start to wonder what's in her eyes that make them so much better than mine.

02. Dreams Call Out To Me

When I was thrust into that universe with Max, I knew nothing would ever be the same. I'd fill with change- I just knew this- and my prediction came true when I found my own sense of orientation slipping into his hands. He couldn't ever know. His sister was a grand diversion. She was young and enthusiastic and willing to try anything once. She was beautiful and good, but she never sent me into nirvana like Max did and I realized I loved him. I still never admitted it to anyone. I'd see his eyes in my dreams. In his eyes I saw the sun, the sky, light, dark. His words said one thing but his eyes said something different entirely. I knew in my heart I would never get over this feeling, and it would never appear for anyone else as long as I lived. I longed to tell him every day. I wanted to be able to have his eyes all day long, all for me. The way he began to look at me sent shivers down my spine, yet still my feelings remained undisclosed. I began to frighten myself. This wasn't me. I attempted to channel all my energy into her, a feat which, to me and my situation, was impossible. However I tried hard to mask it, to convince him that I wasn't, that I _didn't_. I told her that her eyes were beautiful.

The look in his eyes when I did that made me want to die.


	6. Paint Box

Paint Box

It was an attractive Spring morning. The trees were all leafy and green, the sun shone brightly, suspended in a freshwater sky, and the sounds of happy people filled the air. Thirty-two year old Maxwell Carrigan was currently out on the streets of Greenwich Village with his nice and nephew, the children of his younger sister Lucy and her husband Brian. They were seven year-old Vera and three year-old Charlie, though Max and Jude always called him Chuck behind Lucy's back. Vera had inherited her dad's coco brown hair, and it had the same long, straight texture as her mothers. However, little Charlie was gifted with thick, yellow blonde hair, just like his mother, and it was a feature that only added to his charm.

He was going to be the biggest player when he grew up, Max could just tell.

Max's mother often commented on how similar Charlie and Max were, but Max didn't see it. The kid behaved too well, though he was a bit of a fusspot sometimes, to use a 'Jude' term.

Max's hands found his pockets and his eyes hovered over the kids, ensuring they didn't get into any trouble. Though he was a natural ratbag himself, he would give anything to ensure that they were safe. Currently they were walking side by side, Max having fallen behind a little to keep a better eye on them, each of them holding ice creams. Vera, who was in love with anything pink, had a nice strawberry ice cream and was eating it neatly (she still had quite a bit left) whereas Chuck, who's hand-eye coordination hadn't completely kicked in yet, had a nearly-gone chocolate one, his face covered with melted ice cream.

Every time Chuck turned to talk to Vera, Max would catch a glimpse of his face and he couldn't help but laugh a little. The little girl didn't find it as amusing, however, and simply gave her brother a withering glare.

'Charlie,' she said sorely, 'you have ice cream _all_ over your face!'

Chuck, who hadn't quite mastered comebacks yet (though Max had been giving him secret lessons for the past year) simply gaped at his older sister, expecting her to continue talking. He looked at her as if to say 'your point being?' and Vera, offput, simply grumbled to herself and turned away.

Chuck stopped walking for a moment, stared at the ice cream in his hand, then up at his uncle, who knew straight away what he was trying to say.

'You done, buddy?' Max asked, and hearing her uncles voice, Vera wandered back to where her little brother was standing. Charlie nodded and Max took the ice cream and threw it in a nearby bin. 'Alllllright,' he dragged, stooped down onto his knee, then began to search his pockets for a towel of some kind. Finding an old-yet-clean scarf as his best option, he began to wipe the sticky chocolate away from his nephews face.

'H-hold still!' Max muttered as Chuck fidgeted under his grip. 'There! See? Now that wasn't so bad, you little badass.'

The kids laughed. A woman watching from out the front of her building grinned. 'You're really good with your kids,' she commented, sending a more-than-friendly glance to Max. He got her hint.

'Thanks, but they're actually my sisters kids.' _But if you thought they were my kids, why would you hit on me?_ he added in his head. _There'd have to be a mother if there are kids, genius._

'Ah,' she said. 'That's cool too. It's super neat of you to take care of them like that. They seem to really like you.'

Max furrowed his brow. 'Yeah, I suppose. He just thinks I'm a clown and she thinks I'm a total idiot. Which isn't to say that their perceptions are exactly _inaccurate_, but...'

She laughed. 'The boy looks like you.'

Max stared down at Chuck intently, the little boy simply grinning up at him. Okay, so they shared the hair, and the same shade of sky blue in their eyes, but other than that? Well, it was true that Chuck had taken a huge liking to Max from the moment he laid eyes on him. That was something Lucy didn't like too much.

Every Christmas, Thanksgiving or other holiday spent at Max and Jude's place in the Village, Chuck would be by Max's side all day long. He'd have to have Max read his bedtime story, Max tuck him in at night, Max wake him up, Max make him breakfast... Lucy always watched from afar, a concerned expression painted on her face as her brother entertained her son. Jude would roll his eyes and assure her: _'Luce, he's a grown man, and the kid is nuts for him. Just let 'em have some fun, alright? And stop worrying.'_

Lucy had heaved a long sigh and nodded. '_Yeah, I guess you're right. But still- couldn't he at least get a haircut?'_

Snapping back out of his memory thanks to Chuck flinging his arms around his neck, he laughed and stood up, picking the boy up with him. 'Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that,' he muttered loud enough for the woman to hear. 'Anyway, it was, uh, nice meeting you.'

'You too,' she smiled. Max waved goodbye quickly so as to not drop his nephew and motioned for Vera to tag along. In the time it took to clean up her little brother and for her uncle to converse with the woman, she had made a considerable dent in her ice cream. They walked away a little quicker this time, not having to wait for Chuck who couldn't walk too fast. Vera finally finished her dessert and began to skip ahead merrily, her brown hair flying around in the slight breeze.

Max felt Chuck snuggle into him, showing that he was tired. Vera still wanted to go to Tompkins Square Park though, so he continued to follow her to their destination. Besides, he just knew that by the time he set foot on the fresh grass, little Charlie will have had a sudden burst of energy and would become a pain in his butt again.

All part of a days work.

'C'mon, Uncle Max!' Vera cried. 'We're almost there! I can see it!'

'Alright, alright, hold your horses...'

Max followed her slowly, Charlie stirring in his arms. Max set him down on the grass and the kid ran off towards his big sister, who took his hand. Max looked around him at the park: at the aqua sky, the cotton clouds, the shamrock trees and irish grass. It was beautiful. Jude would make a painting of this.

Sourcing a spot on the grass near a large pond, Max sat down while telling the kids not to go far. He pulled out a cigarette, glanced at it, then stashed it back in the box he had pulled it from. He only had two left. Best save 'em for Jude or he'd likely moan if Max had smoked them and he figured out they were gone. Max smirked at the confronting image in his head but quickly shook it off. _Not when minors are around, man._

Max rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and laid down on the grass, smiling up at the sky. It was clear blue with several large, liquid clouds. A beautiful day, he was sure. Spring in New York City was gorgeous, always fresh, never changing. Everyone looked so chipper, unlike in Summer where it was hot enough to cook an egg straight in it's shell and, of course, horrible Winter with it's barren trees and stupid frostbite.

But there was always one good side of Winter. Staying rugged up inside, snow days, having an excuse to be lazy. Those were always good things. And hey, since he and Jude had bought one of those new electric radiators, he wasn't really ever _that_ cold. But he always pretended to be, just to have an excuse to cozy on up to the Brit. Of course.

Max never ate much in Winter either, which for the most part was very strange considering that he ate like a horse for the rest of the year. This worried Jude deeply every time Winter rolled around because Max was a toothpick to begin with. Jude would poke him in the ribs, fascination in his expression. 'How is it that you are not hungry?' he would ask incredulously, and sure enough he'd lift up the American's shirt to get a better look at him. Max would yank his shirt down and say in his most snooty voice, 'how is it that you're an asshole?' and Jude would drop it. For the meantime.

Max woke from his thoughts when his niece and nephew landed on the ground beside him.

'You tired yet?' he asked hopefully, sitting up. Vera nodded and Chuck just sat there, laughing. 'Good enough for me.'

'When can we leave?' Vera asked impatiently, picking at the grass.

'Calm down,' Max muttered. 'We haven't been here that long.'

'Fine,' she groaned. An odd minute went by with Max chatting softly to Charlie and Vera spoke again. 'Uncle Max?'

Max turned to her. 'Hmm?'

'Those guys are gay, right?' she asked, pointing over her uncles shoulder. Max turned to look and sure enough, a pair of guys were getting pretty friendly on a park bench a short ways away. He turned back to her and nodded.

'But they don't look like you.'

Max checked them out again to make sure and again, she was right.

'No, that's right, they don't, and they don't look like Jude either.'

Vera paused for a moment. 'Why does Uncle Teddy say being gay is bad? They look really happy, like you do with Uncle Jude.'

Max groaned a little. How to explain this to a child?

'Uncle Teddy is a fuckwit.'

Vera took a few extra seconds to watch the guys and then she looked down at the grass. 'Oh.'

Max laughed. 'Don't go repeating that last word I said, you got it?' he asked, and Vera nodded quickly. Max nodded at her: 'Good'. He turned to Charlie, who was just sitting there, grinning. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the tanning bed but he was pretty damn adorable. Max tapped him on the nose and added, 'the same goes for you, Einstein.'

The kids laughed, making Max grin. 'Alright. Ready to go?'

-

Max unlocked the door to his and Jude's apartment and stumbled inside, stumbling on the welcome mat on his way in. '_Stupid freaking doormat_,' he grumbled, and kicked it out of the way into the corner. 'Honey, I'm home!' he sang comically, shutting the door behind him.

'Hey!' Jude called from the back, and Max followed the sound of his lovers voice to the studio. He entered and immediately flopped on a very comfortable-looking chair in the corner. Jude laughed at him from his place, standing contemplating a picture on the wall.

'Those children will be the death of me,' he muttered darkly. 'It's your turn next time.'

Jude smiled and hoisted the picture off of the wall, showing it to Max. 'I finished it a little while ago but I think it's missing something. I've been working on it all day. I don't know what to make of it.'

Max stared at it for a while. 'I think,' he dragged, 'it needs more color.'

Jude had used every shade in his paint box.

'Yeah, thanks, Your Royal Helpfulness,' Jude laughed and set the painting on the floor, leaning it against the wall. 'Are they back with Lucy?'

'No, Jude, I left them to play on the street,' Max retorted sarcastically.

Jude rolled his eyes. 'It's not my fault you're insane and I have to double check on you all the time. Remember that time you slept in until around ten minutes before you were meant to drive Lucy to her doctors appointment? Yeah, exactly.'

'Hey, it wasn't my fault I slept in,' Max cried. 'And that was ages ago!'

'It was two weeks ago!'

Max glared at Jude for a while and then shrugged. 'Yeah, well. She and the baby is fine.'

Jude shrugged and began clearing up his desk. 'When she figured out it was a boy she practically cried,' Max began again. 'She knows I can't influence Vera, but the boys...' he rapped his fingers together. 'They can't resist my fantasticosity, and little Dave will be no different.'

'They have a father,' Jude replied flatly.

'Yeah, and he's even fruitier than I am. C'mon, he was even afraid of a football that one time in Central Park... Remember?'

'Ah,' Jude said. It was true. Brian was quite... lackluster. He was afraid of a lot of things and when he got upset his voice would crack. But he was a riot when he was drunk and also was quite fun to laugh at.

Max heaved himself up off the chair and made his way to the kitchen, beginning to rummage through various cupboards. A little while later Jude wandered into the kitchen to find Max sitting at the counter with a jar of peanut butter, a spoon, and a (probably ancient) box of Frosted Flakes.

'Breakfast of champions!' Max cried, waving his hands around for emphasis.

'It's past lunchtime, and that slogan is for weetabix,' Jude replied, kissing Max's temple.

'Wow, what are you? The cereal police?' Max grumbled. Jude rolled his eyes and reached into the box for a handful of cereal. He put it in his mouth then winced at the taste.

'This is horrible!' he groaned.

'Which is why I have the peanut butter,' Max explained. Jude reached for the spoon but Max clutched the jar and held it up to his chest, protecting it. 'Get your own damn spoon!'

Grumbling, Jude fetched a spoon and then snatched the jar out of Max's grip. 'You're a tosser.'

Max smirked. 'But you love me, right?'

'Sure.'

Max glared at Jude for a while as the other man ate. 'Whaht?' Jude asked with a mouthful of peanut butter.

'Say you love me,' Max said in a daring voice.

Jude shook his head no, a small smirk playing on his lips.

'I hate you,' Max huffed.

'No you don't,' Jude laughed.

'Yes, I do!' grumbled Max and he got up and walked off.

Jude rolled his eyes and followed Max into the bedroom.

'You do not hate me,' he said simply.

'Who's cocky?' Max replied, raising his eyebrows. 'And yes I do, as of now.'

'Fine,' Jude surrendered. 'You hate me. As long as you don't laugh.' And he stared Max down,

and then he grinned as the sound of laughter filled the room.

_**I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy / Until I let you take me home**_

**That took a long time, and I didn't know how to end it. I hope this is satisfactory!**

**Sorry it took me so long to update. This is a relatively long drabble though. ;)**

**I hope you enjoy it! (And reviews are love, you know!)**


	7. Junior Mints

Junior Mints

**There was no-one quite like Max.**

He said the kinds of things you'd remember your entire life.

He would wear crazy things that nobody in their right mind would even consider wearing, just to make people smile.

He would make up songs and sing them for a good two weeks, ensuring they would stick in your head like grape jelly.

Then there were the things that were unexplainable.

Like the way Max always smelled like Junior Mints.

Which was strange, because he 'fucking hates mint'.

Jude liked it, it made him laugh. Sometimes he called Max 'junior' just to piss him off.

**He was easy to piss off.**

He would often storm around the apartment, slamming stuff around and then swearing loudly after he hurt himself by accidentally smacking into a doorframe (or other pain-inducing object) as he stomped around in a huff.

On those occasions, Jude couldn't contain his laughter. Max would stand in front of him, bitterly rubbing his bruised arm while muttering under his breath about 'those damned dangerous contraptions' as well as telling the Englishman just how much contempt he felt for him. Jude would give him a signature 'Jude' look and half an hour later they'd be laying in bed, panting, with nothing but a sheet covering them.

It was days like that that reminded Jude of how he had fallen so deeply for the guy in the first place.

And it took him back, and he'd smile, and he didn't need anything else.

He had all he needed: decent income, good health and a boy who unexplainably smelled of Junior Mints.

**Life was good.**

-

_**I was hungry when I wrote this.**_

_**This was the first drabble I ever wrote for this story.**_

_**And it's my absolute favorite. :D**_


	8. Mean Mr Mustard vs Pea Brain

Mr. Mustard vs Pea-Brain

Max came home at four thirty that afternoon, jingling his keys. He pulled off his cap and tossed it aside and stripped off his jacket immediately after. The weather was getting warmer: not so much that it was scorching, but Spring was fading into the warmer days and soon enough Summer would rear it's ugly head. Anyone who lived there would know that Summer in New York City was absolute murder, and even if you had a million and one fans set around your house, you'd still sweat up a storm.

Well, maybe 'sweat up a desert' would be a better term, even if it doesn't make any sense.

The heat reminded him of when he and Jude used to live with Sadie, Jojo and the gang, and how they would lounge around the apartment in the middle of heat waves trying to move as little as possible. Autumn came and the next time it rained they would rush up to the roof and dance around in minimal clothing. Fun times.

Max rooted around in the refrigerator for something cold and ended up with a bag of peas. Oh, I'm not going back on my word all of a sudden and saying that it was so hot that the blonde needed the frozen peas to cool off! No sir! He just enjoyed eating frozen peas. Always has done, probably always will do. Max pulled open the cutlery drawer and withdrew a spoon, tore open the bag, and retreated to the living room.

'Max!'

'Ya-huh?'

'Are you eating frozen peas again?'

'Nnh.'

Jude stood in the doorway, watching him with an apathetic demeanor. 'It isn't even that hot!'

'Screw you! It's scorching! I might _die_.'

Jude rolled his eyes and walked forward... He took a mad leap for the bag of peas and failed. Max cried out from the tackle and sent peas flying everywhere. Jude whacked him around the head. 'Now look what you've done, y'wanker!'

'_Who_ tackled _whom_? Yeah, that's right!'

Jude scowled and began to clean up the mess. 'Are you going to help me or not?'

Max looked unfazed. 'Nope.'

Grumbling, the Brit continued to clean. 'Oh, this reminds me of a joke I heard!' Max cried enthusiastically. 'Okay, okay, here we go. What's the difference between roast beef and pea soup?'

Jude looked at him dispassionately. 'Come on, Max...'

Max laughed shortly, excited for the answer to his joke. 'Anyone can roast beef!' he cried, 'but nobody can pea soup!'

Jude looked horrified. 'I don't understand you.'

'I think that's a good thing,' Max replied and gathered some peas that had fallen into his shirt.

'No, it's definitely _not_ a good thing,' Jude replied. 'Sometimes I can read you so well, other times you flat out confuse me.'

Max smirked. 'All part of the charm.'

Jude snorted. 'I wouldn't call it that.'

'Fine, fine,' Max grumbled, 'Mean Mr. Mustard!'

'Better than being a pea-brain, at least.'

**How now brown cow? It took me ages, right? I've been so uninspired... :k I've written many fics for AYBCS but I haven't even been motivated enough to post them. Ah well. I hope you like this one, anyway! **

**Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States of America. How about that? ;)**


	9. A Day Worth Greeting

A Day Worth Greeting

I'm sitting with Jude and we're watching the sun go down.

We're at the docks. We've just come from thanksgiving dinner, a little over one year since we met.

Today I dropped the bomb on my family.

'Hey mom and dad! You remember Jude? Yeah, well, I'm gay with him now. Can you pass the cranberry sauce?'

Okay, maybe it wasn't that cavalier.

They weren't too happy about that, needless to say.

Before I could object my uncle and my dad started shouting at Jude. Yeah, like all this is his fault.

Lucy shouted at them and Jude and I snuck out the front door and went to the beach.

Jude turned away from me and started skipping rocks, trying to avoid me seeing him so upset. He told me before that it was a bad idea but I 'convinced' him that it would be okay. Pssht. What do I know?

I just sat down on the sand, just close enough for the water to rise a few inches away from my legs.

I'm disappointed, honestly. I thought, if anything, that I should at least get them to hear me out.

I can hear their patronizing voices now. "Oh, Max, don't say that! It's just a fling! How about Mona, Paul Smith's daughter? She's so pretty, Max, you'd make beautiful children."

Please don't set me up with Paul Smith's daughter when my fucking boyfriend is standing right next to me. Thanks.

Jude sits down next to me and says he's sorry. I tell him he's got nothing to be sorry for.

The sun starts to go down. Jude says that it's beautiful.

I always thought sunrises were better than sunsets. Sunsets meant saying goodbye to the day, but sunrises greeted the new.

But today was a day I am eager to say goodbye to.

Maybe tomorrow will be a day worth greeting.

**I like this one. **


	10. Crafty Carrigan!

Crafty Carrigan

Max pushed the front door of the apartment open, stumbling inside and pulling off his jacket as he did so. He tossed the grey jacket aside and then proceeded into the big room at the side of the apartment where his friend Prudence was lounging across the sofa.

'Hey Maxwell,' she said airily and waved a hand in regal fashion. Max nodded towards her in recognition and stood in the middle of the room, watching her. 'What have you been up to?'

Max smirked. 'I've been getting some phone numbers.'

Prudence raised her eyebrows and pulled her small frame up to sit. 'Hand 'em over.'

Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a generous handful of little slips of paper. Handing them carefully to Prudence, he collapsed onto a chair next to her.

Pru smiled at him and began to investigate his prospects. On each piece of paper next to the number and the name there was a small (unskilled) sketch of a woman.

'They're there to help me remember who was attractive and who wasn't, you see.'

Prudence laughed and held one up to her eyes, studying it. Flowing, wavy hair surrounded a button-shaped head, and two lines for eyes, a dot for a nose and a half-moon mouth illustrated the girls features.

'Is this what they're supposed to look like?' Prudence giggled, picking up another. 'This one looks like a pimple!'

Just then Jude walked into the room with a curious smirk on his lips. 'That's not very nice, Prudence, he can't help his appearance... Though he could take a shower every once and a while.'

Max screwed up his expression and held up an empty glass flower vase, threatening to throw it at Jude's head. Jude shrugged and settled on the sofa next to Prudence, knowing full well that Max wouldn't throw it. Because if he did, he would have to clean it up before Sadie came home and threw his ass out the window.

Max set it on the side table then straightened up, his nose in the air. 'Your simple-minded insults do not effect me in any way,' he said snootily, crossing his arms.

Prudence smirked knowingly. 'Max is channeling some of your fabulous artistic talents, Jude.'

Jude raised his eyebrows as she handed the papers to him, and he eagerly flipped through them. Max, meanwhile, was muttering expletives under his breath, knowing well that Jude was having a field day with this and was greatly enjoying Max's failed attempts at artwork.

'Wow, Max!' Jude exclaimed. 'You've really outdone yourself with this lot! They are simply gorgeous!'

Max glared at him. Jude stared back blankly and then said:

'Get over it, pimple.'

**Not my best, but I worked through it quickly.**

**And this is totally something Max would do. 'Was she hot? Nah, she had a mole on her nose... But **_**she**_** was a fox!'**

**Number 10! Hooray! :)**


	11. You Will, You Won't

You will, you won't.

See, here's the thing, Jude. I don't know what to make of it yet. I can't figure you out, and I can't figure her out, and I sure as fuck can't figure me out. You've told me some things that nobody in this situation should hear. You tell me that you'd be with me for sure, if only you weren't with her. Well, that doesn't help me one bit, does it? You say we both don't want to hurt Luce but I don't think you understand that I would absolutely choose you over my sister. In a heartbeat. It wouldn't cross my mind. It's confusing, but then, it's not. Not really. I love you, and you say that you love me, but when you do stuff like kiss her in front of me, or dance with her at one of Sadie's gigs with those stupid love-filled eyes, I don't know if I can believe you. I think on your end, it's more of an "infatuation pending" sort of situation. You will. You won't. I know what I want, you know what I want. But you can't act on these fucking instincts you get until you're a hundred percent sure, and I have no idea how long it's gonna take until you're sure. But I'm gonna wait, Jude, even if I have to wait fifty years and we both look like the back end of a bus. I don't know if that shows that I'm dedicated to you, or that I'm absolutely insane. But that's the way I suppose it is. Fuckin' Max Carrigan. Stupid as the day is long. I don't know if this means anything, I don't know if this will make you change your mind again and if saying this will do me more harm than good, but I ought to try, I suppose. You should know that when day after day passes me by and I have to keep on acting like it doesn't hurt me when you treat her the same way you've treated me a few hours before, it really kills me, because it does hurt me and it hurts me badly. I don't want to scare you away but I don't want to fuck myself up either. I don't know what else to say. I used to be able to make snap decisions, I wouldn't need a second to think. Now I don't know what I want, really, except that I want you.

Maybe I'll burn this letter I've written so many times to cinders again. Maybe I won't. Maybe you'll leave her today. Maybe you'll be with me. Maybe you won't. Maybe you never will.

Hell, maybe I'll get over you! No, I bet I won't. I'll never stop loving you, Jude, not as long as I've got a head on my shoulders.

**That sort of came out of nowhere. And I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get another one of these out! I hope you all had a great holiday and that the start to the new year was a great one! **

_**1234567, all good children go to heaven...**_


	12. Real

Real

When he came home from the war in Vietnam, and he found out that Jude was gone, Prudence was the only one who didn't let him wallow in self pity and who continued to treat him like the quirky, naive boy who lived in Max's body before the war decided to trample it out of him. Pru knew it was there somewhere, and she knew that treating him like a lost soul was not the way to encourage it back out. So while everyone else, with sullen expressions on their faces, watched as a broken Max curled up over a bundle of Jude's letters, Prudence was the only one who would dare to call him a wuss and who would playfully tap him on the shoulder and laugh that if she wanted a baby as her roommate, she would call the social worker and he'd be delivered to her as soon as her paperwork cleared.

At the start, Max hated it. He wanted to hide under his covers and never come out for anyone unless they spoke with a Liverpudlian accent. To him, she was being nasty, cruel, jesting at the imperfections he seemed to have so many of. Later on, he realized that it was exactly the thing that kept him together while Jude was away. While everyone else treated him like a bomb that was about to go off, she was unafraid to act around him like she had always done, to encourage the turtle that was Max's real personality to poke his head out of his shell every once and awhile instead of retreating like the others seemed to be promoting. She kept the hope that one day, this Max would disappear and the old Max, the real Max, would return as if nothing ever happened. She knew well that her efforts would never be enough, that only a certain brown haired man could be the one to get him back, but still she was afraid that without her attempts then perhaps he would slip into the cracks altogether and eventually nobody, not even Jude, would be able to fish him back out.

So for that time, she would taunt and laugh and amuse him, and act like normal Prudence would around a normal Max, even if the current Max was the exact opposite of normal. For that is what Prudence does, she is the one who keeps regularity in a world filled with change.

_**When I was a boy, everything was right...**_

**My titling skills deserve a Pulitzer prize.**


	13. Bird on the Wire

Bird On The Wire

She had found out that she was expecting on a Thursday morning. Suspecting it for a couple of weeks, she finally made her way to the doctors office. He confirmed it with a smile, but she was much less enthused. She was only twenty-two. How could she raise a baby all by herself?

She could rely on Martha. After all, she had had Jude when she wasn't much older. She was the first person Molly had told when she suspected that she was pregnant, and Martha was the one who made the call to the doctors office.

'If you are pregnant, you know who to turn to if you need help with anything,' Martha had told her. Unfortunately, Phil was not so supportive.

-

'What do you mean you're pregnant?' he had cried, his nose red from drinking. Molly was on the floor, her back to the wall, as Phil paced up and down the hallway, cursing and muttering under his breath. She was in tears, sobbing quietly as to not draw any more attention to herself. Every time she wiped the tears away, more would fall.

'I didn't do it on purpose,' she said meekly, wrapping her arms around her knees.

'Oh yeah?' Phil asked, turning to her angrily. 'Just when I got promoted, right? And got a pay rise? I know what you're like: you think what's mine is yours and I'm not having it this time.'

Molly had had enough. She looked up at him, irritated.

'What is there to have, Phil? To take?' she hissed. 'I am your fiancee. It's your obligation to take care of me and _your_ baby.'

He did not look pleased at her words. He always denied her the things she needed: a smile at the end of the day, an ear when she needed to rant: even just a pair of arms to hold her when she cried, whether there be a reason to her tears or not. To Phil, all of those things, and other things of that nature, seemed like a chore.

Molly stood and immediately advanced to him. She rested a hand on his cheek and turned his face to make him look at her. 'Did you hear me, Phil? I'm you're fiancee. Your lover, your friend. Why can't you start treating me like it?'

Phil turned pink and scowled at her, pulling out of her grip. 'Phil, please. I can't raise it by myself.'

'Yeah? Well who said I even want to raise it?' He snapped, and Molly stepped back, horrified. 'If it's even mine,' he added in a grumble.

Molly snapped. She slapped him straight across the face.

'What? Phil! How can you say that? I have stayed home, day in and day out, complying to your every whim. I serve you meals, I make sure your clothes are clean and your house is spotless. The rare moment I have to myself, I'm either reading a book or working on my writing. The only time I go out is to buy you more things.'

She held onto his hands and pleaded. 'I don't even have any friends of my own! And you go out drinking every night! When you come home, you barely say two words to me and then I'm in bed with you. This is _every night_! You never ask me how I am, what I've done today... You're always in a mood, like I've done something wrong. What have I done to make you despise me so? I have no-one else, I just want someone to hold me at the end of the day and let me say what I need to say. How I ran into Elsie in the street or... or how I accidentally burned my hand on the iron that morning. Is that so much to ask? I don't beg for your love or your money, or freedom... I just want someone to be there for me... I just want you.'

Phil looked down at the floor and stepped away from her, and with that one action, he said all he needed to say. Molly felt herself go weightless and she fell to the floor in tears, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Loud, hard sobs shook her shoulders as she cried and cried. Phil said nothing. He didn't console her and he didn't speak. He went to the cupboard, poured a glass of whiskey and sat at the kitchen table, listening to her cry as he sipped at the cold glass in his hand. They were there for almost an hour, Phil refilling his glass and Molly weeping from her place on the floor.

Sometimes Molly would be ironing or doing the laundry, thinking of the next chore on her list. That would turn to questioning herself, 'will Phil notice the way I did this differently, or how I put these in a different spot?' She knew the answer was no. As soon as she finished that project, she would walk to the middle of the room, fall to her knees, and cry. After she was completely out of tears, she would pick herself up, compose herself, and then get back to work, the past in the past.

Molly rested her hands on her stomach as soon as she had finished crying. She felt numb, and she sat in the dead silence for a while, the only noise being the clinking of his glass against the hardwood table when he set it down.

'What do you want me to do?' she mumbled, not taking her hands off of her stomach.

Phil exhaled loudly, almost irritatedly, and he glanced at her. 'I don't know.'

'Will you take care of it?' she tried.

Phil shook his head, then nodded in her direction. 'It's not mine.'

Molly expected that, and she shook her head knowingly. 'I told you I hardly ever get out of the house, and considering the fact that I need to satisfy you every night, who else could it be?'

He groaned and took another sip. 'I don't want it.'

That broke her heart. 'Phil, I know you don't love me. But please, please don't hurt this child by pretending that it doesn't exist. You treat me like a tool in your life, an inconvenience who does your washing and cooking. You can't do that to him or her.'

She paused for a while. 'Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. I just.... need some direction.'

The answer was easy. 'Nothing is to change. You're to stay here and keep house like you've always done until it's born. You can get some work from home, mending or something, and you can make whatever you can from your writings. Then, when it's born, I'm leaving. I'm taking just my things and I'm going to London. You can have everything else: the house, the money. I never want to hear a word from you afterwards. I don't want to know how it's doing or what it's name is or any of that... shit.'

To this he slammed his glass down hard on the table.

'Because it'll be over and done with.'

Molly brushed some dirt off of her hands, and she nodded. She didn't expect anything different.

Phil stood up, she could hear from the scooting of his chair.

'Now, it's time for bed.'

**So, I wrote this one a long time ago. Like, months and months ago. And since I've been drifting into other fandoms and haven't written a drop for ATU lately, I figured this is better than nothing. I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update. I promised I'd post more but.. gah. Other fandoms, yeah? You know how it goes?**

**I hope you like it, and thank you so much for all your feedback. I really, really appreciate it. **

**Have an awesome day, guys!**


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